


Scion

by thesingingbone



Series: by the breathing of little stars [2]
Category: Peter Pan & Related Fandoms, Peter Pan (1953), Peter Pan (2003), Peter Pan - J. M. Barrie
Genre: Gen, Origin Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 23:06:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesingingbone/pseuds/thesingingbone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Why are you angry?” Peter asked, his green eyes earnest. Confused. She had been bewitched by those eyes, once; of the adventure they told. Now they glittered with such boyish innocence one would acquit Pan of all crime, if not for the bloody cutlass held comfortably in his hands, posed still in a killing blow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scion

“Oh, you wretched boy! You truly horrendous, monstrous thing!” 

The rain was sharp as needles and as cold as the Neverland sea as it pierced through the soft white fabric of Wendy Darling’s sleeping gown, crinkling and clinging to her skin. Her fingers were numb from their grip on the pistol; her knuckles as white as the flesh on the cooling corpse of James Hook, splayed out on the ship’s deck. 

“Why are you angry?” Peter asked, his green eyes earnest. Confused. She had been bewitched by those eyes, once; of the adventure they told. Now they glittered with such boyish innocence one would acquit Pan of all crime, if not for the bloody cutlass held comfortably in his hands, posed still in a killing blow. 

“You’ve murdered him!”

The Jolly Roger bowed dangerous. Wendy’s spindly legs struggled to hold her up. 

“But of course - he’s a pirate!”

“ _I’m_ a pirate!”

Peter tilted his head curiously. “No, you’re Mother.” 

There was naught but the pitter patter of rain for a moment, then: “I am Red-Handed Jill, the second most vicious pirate of all the seven seas.” She whispered. 

He blinked slowly, but a smile budded on his lips until it flowered into a guffaw. “You’re nothing but a silly girl.”

Her lips trembled at the words, and the gun wavered off Peter for but a moment; it steadied back towards his heart as the boy took a step forward. She could distantly feel the trembling hands of Smee, posed behind her as if to grab, but making no move to. 

“Come now, I’ve slain your kidnapper - Hook, the codfish! - and saved you. You must return to the Lost Boys and be their Mother, and I will even let you tell them this new story, of my cleverness-”

Peter stopped short of Hook’s corpse, staring at the gun in befuddlement. Pirate’s blood crawled between his toes, but he seemed not to notice. 

_Selfish, cruel boy. Don’t you see the blood? Do you even truly realize what you’ve done?_

The children locked eyes. There was nothing left to be said. Wendy reached for the acorn hung round her neck and flung it viciously to the wooden planks bellow. 

He took only a moment to watch the kiss row across deck; looking back at Wendy, eyes brimmed with tears, Peter lunged. 

Wendy fired. 

The smoke filled her nose and mouth as Peter screamed, her own eyes dripping with tears ( _from the powder and not the shot, because she was a vicious pirate, she was, she was_ ) but soon the cool wood was being desperately yanked from her fingers, a wobbly thing of green and blond flitting in the air a bout her. 

“Stop it, Wendy! Let go, let go, let go!”

“No! Go away, you devilish boy!”

“You’re our Mother! Let go!”

“I’m a pirate!” 

She had tears, rain and Peter’s blood on her face, feet slipping as she pulled desperately at the pistol ( _it’s mine, he gave it to me_ ), and there was a vicious crack of thunder, bright lighting, and something silver swinging down - 

There was no pain, at first. Just three plops; two of clanging metal, and something soft and squishy. 

The red spray across her feet was mistaken for her sash, at a glance - she had always worn it about her waist, crimson satin, to turn the drab nightgown into appropriate pirate garb. _It must have fallen off._

Wendy did not even realize she was screaming until she shuffled back into the clinging arms of Smee, her feet kicking puddles of water to wash over her hand, its small fingers still posed on the trigger of the pistol even when bereft of her arm. 

 

“Yer fine now, lass; right as rain, ye’ are.” 

The sun was shining, and yet her skin felt cold. 

Wrapped in the late Captain Hook’s finest red velvet blazer, one would not even notice the burned stump of Wendy Miora Angela Darling’s arm, the uneven and blistering skin still decorated with her red sash, bound tightly to make a tourniquet. 

Lifting herself from the Scottish gentleman’s cradling limbs, Wendy shuffled morosely about the Jolly Roger’s deck; lain in the middle was none other than James Hook himself, his mane of black curls tucked neatly around him, hands folded politely on his stomach. 

_Good form_ , she thinks, the fingers of her remaining hand picking gently for the plumed hat by his side. 

Tucking the cap on her head, Wendy watches the soft padding of her own bare feet, a lingering Smee drifting not far behind, when a kiss rolls past her toes. 

She follows it to the faded smudges of bloody children’s feet, which soon fall off the deck, leaving Wendy to look out across the sea. 

On a distant island called Neverland, the shadow of a boy who will never grow up flits by. 

Red-Handed Jill’s blue eyes turn red.


End file.
